


Training Days

by redeem147



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen, Humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-12
Updated: 2011-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-22 13:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redeem147/pseuds/redeem147
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giles does his best to train Andrew as a Watcher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training Days

Giles came running down the staircase at the sound of the crash.

“I’m sorry, Mister Giles.” Andrew was trying to brush the shards into the waste basket with a file folder. “I had a little lipra accident.”

Giles barely held back his anger, for the fiftieth time that afternoon. “My aunt Rosemarie gave me that vase. I’ll clean it up.” He picked the long-handled training weapon off the floor. “And this is not Klingon, nor Martian, nor any other kind of weapon belonging to science fiction. It also does not belong in the living room. As I believe I’ve told you repeatedly.”

“Vulcan. I know. A real lirpa has a pointy sharp end. And I was using it in the training room, but the light is better in here.” His eyes crinkled as though he were going to cry. Again. “I’m really sorry.”

“Please don’t snivel. ‘Stiff upper lip’ is the Watcher’s credo.”

Andrew wiped his eyes. “Yes, sir.”

Giles voice softened. “Andrew, why don’t you go into the library and study the Watcher’s Diaries for a few hours. I’ll clean up in here.”

The young man nodded. “Mr. Giles,” he asked, “now that the Scoobies all have their assignments, when do you think I’ll get mine?”

“When you’re ready, Andrew. We discussed this.”

“It’s just that there’s so many girls and so few of us.”

“I know that. When you’re ready.”

*****

Andrew ran into the living room, the book clutched to his chest. “Wow. This is unbelievable.”

Giles looked up from the couch where he sat with his copy of the Times. “I see you’ve found something of interest. Something on the history of Angelus, perhaps? The founding of the North American wing of the Council? Exciting tales of Slayers past?”

“Did you really have sex with Buffy’s mom?”

Giles jumped from the sofa and pulled the book away from Andrew. “I told you to read the Watcher’s Diaries. Not my diary.”

“Oh.” Andrew blushed. “Well, you’re a Watcher.”

“Where did you get this?” He waved the small leatherbound notebook in the air. “This is private.”

“On the shelf. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know that a book inscribed ‘The Private and Confidential Personal Diary of Rupert Giles’ was not meant to be read by anyone other than Rupert Giles?”

“Well...” His eyes shifted downwards. “I’m sorry. Is it dinner time yet? I’ve really got a craving for Yorkshire Pudding.”

****

He waited until Andrew had gone to bed before calling Italy.

“Yes, I know his heart is in the right place. I know our resources are limited. But really, Buffy, he’s quite impossible. This afternoon I found him covered in flour in my kitchen, trying to bake a funnel cake. Mrs. Higgins was beside herself. He’s no closer to being ready for one of the Slayers than he was the day we arrived.

I am trying, Buffy. No, I am not getting ‘shirty’. Wherever did you pick that up?

Well, if I were to assign him to one of the girls, which one would you suggest? Enid? She’d eat him alive. Well, perhaps Enid then.

Though really, I still don’t think he’s ready.

Give my love to Dawn. Night.”

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. For a moment, he even missed Quentin Travers. Though the boy wouldn’t have lasted a minute under the old Council. They would have had enough trouble accepting an American Watcher, much less an ineffectual, video-camera toting murderer.

Maybe he could ship him off to be trained by Roger Wyndam-Pryce. No, not even Andrew deserved that fate.

The boy was his responsibility, and he would make a Watcher out of him or die in the attempt.

And really, life was rather over-rated.

*****

“Mr. Giles! Mr. Giles!”

He found Andrew out in the pen behind the stables, being chased in a circle by Old Chestnut. “Andrew,” he called. “Jump over the fence.”

He helped the boy off the ground. “Whatever were you doing in there?” He steadied Andrew, who was wobbling precariously, looking to be on the verge of fainting.

“I was feeding him a sugar cube. And he turned on me.” Andrew’s voice lowered. “I think he’s the devil.”

“Andrew, Old Chestnut is sixteen years old. He is hardly ‘The Devil’. He can barely canter anymore. Please, just stay away from the horses.”

“Yes, sir.” Andrew put his hand in his pocket then reached out to Giles. “Sugar cube?”

*****

He didn’t want to take the call from Wolfram and Hart, though he felt some vestigal responsibility for Wesley.

“You think she’s a Slayer. And she’s dangerous. This is a very serious matter. I’ll send someone out right away.

I understand. A perilous mission indeed.”

He put the receiver in the cradle and thought a moment before calling him in.

“Yes, Mr. Giles? You wanted me?”

“Andrew, why are your hands all black?”

“Oh. I was polishing your silver. I wanted to surprise you.”

“That would be Grandmother Giles’ Victorian tea service?”

“I guess. I think I scratched it up a bit. I’ll try to fix it.”

“Don’t bother.” Giles lay his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Andrew, you’ll be pleased to know that I finally have a little mission for you. You’re off to California.”

“Really?” Andrew grinned. “Cool.”


End file.
